


This Is Why I Need You

by donnarafiki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, light ish story, they're pretty happy drunks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/pseuds/donnarafiki
Summary: Draco has long ago given up the pretence of being fine, but for Harry things are quite different. Or at least they are until their paths cross on a sunny July afternoon.





	This Is Why I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on a song, and I've included a link for that in the notes at the end. The reverenced assault is from a side character, and isn't mentioned directly, but it's still pretty dark so if that triggers you at all please don't read this.

 Draco brought the bottle of whiskey to his face, planning on getting even more shit-faced than he already was. After all, there was no one stopping him now, with his mother murdered just after the war and his father having died just three days before. Even his friends weren’t slowing him down, because they were right there with him.

St. Mungo’s refusing to hire Theo, even though he had never stepped one foot out of line and his grades and skills were beyond amazing, had been the last straw. The Slytherins were branded for life as evil, untrustworthy, lower than fucking cattle on their way to slaughter. No one cared about them, including themselves.

They’d tried to carry on after the final battle and the trials, where the ministry had miraculously not taken away their money, but they had stopped doing so long ago. It had come to the sad point where the latest and only new edition to Draco’s group of friends was a girl they’d met on the suicide ward; Gabrielle Delacour, a gorgeous girl if it hadn't been for the huge burn scars on her face. She’d tried to take away the beauty that led men to attack her by setting it on fire.

Years ago that would have horrified him, but now it barely made him blink twice. He even considered it for himself, at least then people could see how broken he was on the inside, without even talking to him.

A sudden wave of music made him look up. A couple yards further Blaise had climbed into his hideous yellow muggle Jeep, and had turned on the radio. The few people Draco still cared about - the ones that still knew he existed at all - were gathered in the front yard of the manor. No one dared to go inside, because though some of them may be suicidal, but none of them were masochists.

Draco hummed approvingly as he recognized the song. Pink had been one of the first muggle artists he’d learned to appreciate, and she was the reason Draco had shaved part of his hair away and dyed the rest lilac. _Fuck the fucking rest of the fucking world,_ he’d thought, and in a drunken impulse he’d even had it tattooed on his upper thigh. He didn’t regret doing that, he’d done much worse things.

“Is this your goodbye party?” Gabrielle fell down in the grass next to him, and looked at him through the eye that still worked. The other one, made out of glass, just stared at something a little behind him, seeing nothing at all. She looked thoughtful, but not judgemental. Draco felt like she understood him, understood them all, way better than they understood themselves.

It was a pity the men who had made her this way, who had ruined and branded her for the rest of her life, had never seen that. Draco sighed, and put the whiskey down so he could throw an arm around her shoulder. She’d told him once that she liked it when he did that, it felt like some sort of brotherly protection she wished she’d had before, so he tried to do it more often.

Gabrielle smiled then, but it held no joy, just a little bit of comfort.

“It could be a goodbye party.” He let out another sigh and eyed the bottle. Then he let his eyes drift to the rest of the group. Millicent sat on an improvised swing, set in a huge oak on the other side of the main path. She wasn’t swinging, just sitting there talking to Astoria, who was hugging her own knees and swaying back and forth.

Blaise still sat in his yellow Jeep, sunglasses firmly in place and chin pointed towards his chest. He was probably asleep. Daphne was reading a book next to Pansy, both sitting near the little pond, chewing on a straw as the July sun caused them to sweat, making their dresses cling to them more and more. Or maybe they’d gone swimming, Draco didn’t know.

And then there was Theo and Goyle, hidden in the shadow of a half fallen-down shed, making flower crowns out of daisies. They looked the most peaceful of them all, though Draco knew that was just because they were both stoned out of their mind.

“I don’t really see a point in living. I Haven’t for a long time.” He pried a stone loose from beneath the dirt and started playing with it. “So if not a goodbye party for me, then at least a goodbye party for whatever the fucking hell it is that makes my life feel so shit.”

Gabrielle laughed and pulled out her little notebook. It was full of quotes and stories from the group, and one day she hoped to turn in into a book. No one would read it, but Draco thought it was a nice project. Sometimes he wished he had a project, but then his depression reminded him that he didn’t actually want anything and he dropped the idea again.

“Who are they?” Gabrielle nodded towards the gates, where two figures had appeared out of nowhere. Draco frowned, trying to make his intoxicated brain come up with something, but he drew a blank.

“Dunno. They can join if they want to. Zeus knows we have enough to drink.” And he took a demonstrative swig from the bottle of whiskey still laying next to him. “But they’ll have to walk here, the days of me being polite and greeting folks are over, thank fucking Merlin.”

Gabrielle shot the strangers another look. The pair seemed to be wearing something red, but before Draco could investigate further Gabrielle pulled him down so she could use his stomach as a pillow. Draco decided that was fine too, and settled in the grass. If the two wanted something from him, they would have to come and get it.

Or not. He really couldn’t care less.

About three minutes later two shadows fell over him, and when he opened his eyes he was met with two very familiar figures. To his regret, seeing them didn’t spark a single thing inside of him, but that could also be because of the whiskey. “Afternoon,” his mouth speaks, and he’s surprised that it even bothered. Usually he just stares at people with empty grey eyes as a greeting.

“We were notified of a break-in here.” The left one says, as the right one stares at him, totally gobsmacked. The left one, also known as Senior Auror Ronald Weasley, pokes the right one, also known as Senior Auror Harry Potter, in his side to make him close his mouth. “But since this is your place, I gather that suggestion is false?”

Draco just stared at Weasley in response, not really unable to answer, but just not feeling the need to. Gabrielle was just as mute, and rolled onto her stomach so she could push her face into the crook of his neck. She hated the gaze of strange men on her, especially when they were in uniform. Draco had never asked why, but he thought he could make a pretty good guess.

“We’ll leave you to it then.” Weasley nodded at them rather awkwardly, and started to make his way back to the gates. He didn’t notice for quite some time that Potter wasn’t following him, which gave him time to say something for himself.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m being broken,” Draco’s mouth replied with a slight slur, again surprising its owner, “being a shit-faced orphan trying to drink away his fortune.” His hand held out the bottle of whiskey for Potter, which left Draco surprised for the third time that afternoon. “Wanna join?”

For a moment Potter actually seemed to be tempted, but then Weasley called his name and he quickly left. That was the moment when the biggest surprise of the day struck Draco; he actually felt disappointed.

“Don’t worry,” Gabrielle said as she flipped onto her back again and continued staring at the clouds, “he’ll come back. He looked way too intrigued to stay away.”

Draco hummed, and joined Gabrielle in staring at the clouds. The prospect of Potter coming over intrigued him too, and against his own expectations he barely touched another drop as the sun lowered itself in the sky. He didn’t want to be in a coma when the hero of the wizarding world came back to drink away his problems.

And indeed, not entirely unexpectedly, a dark figure appeared at the gates as the hour neared seven. The party had, by now, moved to the tree with the improvised swing and Gabrielle and Millicent were trying to get a fire going. Why, Draco didn’t know. The heat of summer still hung in the air like a suffocating blanket, but he didn’t question it. If they felt like building a fire then they could fucking well do so.

“Is that Potty?” Blaise asked, lazily lifting his sunglasses as the wind blew the smell of weed and new leather into his nostrils. Draco didn’t like it much, so he got up and made his way towards the ugly yellow Jeep. The music had gone out at some point, and he wanted to bring it back. He’d always been a great fan of karaoke while drunk, and he was mildly curious about Potty’s singing skills.

“Evening,” Draco greeted when Potter came to a halt next to the Jeep. This time it wasn’t surprising because he’d actually meant to say it, instead of it just being his mouth leading its own life again. He sniggered at the sad thought that his mouth had more of a life than he did. Circe, if his past self could see him now…

“Whose Jeep is this?” Potter asked, probably trying to stay on somewhat neutral terrain. He looked nervous, standing there in his worn jeans and plain white shirt, but there was also something different about him. Shedding the auror robes and presence of his ginger friend had done something to him. It had made him less tense, less trying to pretend that he was fine.

Draco smiled a little, he knew that feeling. Deciding that pretending to be a normal, respectable wizarding heir wouldn’t do anymore had been the most liberating decision he’d ever made - though it hadn’t been very good for either his liver or his lungs. But what sodding good would lungs do if he were dead anyway?

“It’s Blaise’s,” he replied when he remembered that he hadn’t yet. He turned the volume of the radio up and hopped out of the car seat, quickly making his way to the booth and the liquor that was stored there. “I have tequila, vodka, rum and whiskey.”

Draco looked up to Potter and saw that the words _do you have anything lighter?_ were on the tip of his tongue. He rolled his eyes, so much for Gryffindors being brave. “You’re having rum. It fits you better.”

He tossed Potter a bottle, and the man caught it with ease even though Draco’s throw had been off by a long shot. Hand-eye coördination and alcohol had never been the best of friends. Only swaying slightly, he made his way back to Potter and flung an arm around his shoulder - because he’d fall otherwise, not because he wondered how Potter’s strong, muscled body would feel. “And now, we’re going to get you just as shit-faced as the rest of us.”

* * *

 

Draco’s memory of how he’d gotten on the roof of the Jeep was slightly hazy, but that didn’t bother him much as Harry climbed on too, nearly falling on his face in the proces. He wasn’t sure when he’d started calling Potter ‘Harry’ either, but at that moment, laughing at the other man was much more important than figuring that one out.

“Stop it,” Harry slurred, sitting down so close to Draco that he was practically in his lap, “‘s not funny.”

Draco just giggles in reply and rolls his eyes, which results in him getting dizzy and falling onto his back on the Jeep. Harry follows suit, and shuffles around until he’s got his head resting on the exact same spot as Gabrielle lay that morning. A weird thought comes over Draco, making him look up at the drunk man on his stomach.

Harry wouldn’t be jealous of Gabrielle now, would he? No that would be ridiculous. Harry might be there to drink away his sorrow, which Draco now understands is mostly coming from a crippling depression that he tries to hide from the rest of the world, but he wouldn’t like Draco.

 _Draco_ didn’t even like Draco, it would make no sense at all.

“How d’you know muggle stuff?” Harry asked, turning his head to look at him. “You’re Draco Malfoy, you’re not supposed to know muggle stuff. ‘S weird.”

“Wizarding stuff sucks,” Draco replied, his sort of happy mood evaporating at the thought of the first time he’d gone into the muggle world. Millicent had taken him to see her father and his new girlfriend, who were both muggles. They’d invited him into their house, hugged him and offered him tea, and as a result he’d spent almost two hours crying on their sofa. No adult had ever treated him that nice before. He still teared up just thinking about them now.

“Muggle stuff sucks too,” Harry noted, turning around some more so he could nuzzle at Draco’s soft stomach. Draco had grown chubby after he’d stopped keeping up the pretense of being okay. “And wizarding stuff. All stuff really. Life.”

Draco hummed in agreement. Then they just lay there, silently watching the setting sun with some obscure indie band in the background. Amber Run or something.

It was rather peaceful, Draco thought. Very different from his original plan for the day, which had consisted of drinking until he forgot his own name. He couldn’t help but think that this was better than his original plan. Quite a lot better.

“I like the hair.” Harry stirred but Draco couldn’t be bothered with lifting his head to look at the man. Not because his depression wouldn’t let him, but just because he was comfortable, and he didn’t want to disrupt the lazy vibe in his body.

“I like _the hair_ too.” He replied, but he didn’t actually mean his own hair, though he did like that. He meant Harry’s hair, which was sprawled out across his stomach now. One of his hands lazily reached up to stroke it, and he found that it was rather soft.

And then it hit him. He _liked_ Harry’s hair. He really did, he liked how it looked despite what he’d always claimed, he liked how he could put his hand through it, liked how it swayed lightly in the evening breeze. It was the first thing he’d really liked in forever, and though he didn’t _love_ it or anything, it was still something. A baby step, as his therapist always said. But, for someone who’d been standing still since forever, it felt like a pretty big step all the same.

“I haven’t looked at the stars since my godfather died,” Harry told him out of the blue, sounding a lot less drunk than before. “Will you look them with me?”

This time Draco did bother to sit up a bit, and his efforts were rewarded with a solemn looking Harry staring back at him. He swallowed heavily, taking in Harry’s intense green eyes; then he nodded, unable to talk.

A more upbeat Amber Run song came on, and Harry sat up and smiled at him. “You’re not evil,” he said then, his tone quite dry. “You’re nicer than most people I know. Nicer to be around.”

“You must know a lot of shit people then,” Draco’s mouth replied, and it’s the first time in ages that his tongue feels somewhat sharp again. It felt nice, and though his mind wasn’t really prepared for it, his lips still formed a smile.

“No.” Harry shook his head, but soon came to regret that decision. He lay down on Draco’s stomach again. “I just hide from them. From good people. Healed people. But I don’t have to do that with you. I like that.”

Draco wanted to smile again, but didn’t manage it because he got interrupted by a familiar voice - one he hadn’t heard in years, just as he hadn’t heard Harry’s and Weasley’s before that afternoon. “Harry! Oh thank goodness Harry, we found you. Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Draco sat up as soon as he could manage it without falling off the roof of the Jeep. He felt Harry’s body tense up despite the alcohol, as he spotted the two people approaching. Granger and Weasley were hurrying towards them.

“Don’t leave me,” Harry whispered sharply, glancing at him with a look of shock and something like fear. Draco shook his head and put a firm arm around Harry’s shoulders. Even with alcohol it was still hard to admit that you were broken, that you’d been keeping up the pretence of normalcy for quite some time, right under the eyes of those you loved.

Draco knew the feeling, it was one of the reasons he’d only opened up about his depression after having been found close to death on a bathroom floor. Society was so twisted about mental health issues that he’d thought it to be easier to take his own life instead of reaching out for help.

“What are you two doing here?” Pansy had walked up to the four of them, unnoticed by Draco and Harry. She wore one of Millicent’s pink, oversized sweaters but the gaze she aimed at Weasley and Granger was still more than a little intimidating.

“We’re here for Harry.” Granger glared right back at Pansy, taking a threatening step forward. When Pansy didn’t flinch or respond in any way, she turned her gaze to Harry. “What are you doing here? Why weren’t you at dinner? We were worried sick.”

Draco turned his head to see Harry’s response. Harry just stared at Granger with blank eyes. Then he blinked once. Twice. Trice.

“It’s okay,” Draco bent his head to Harry’s ear and pulled him closer. He hoped his whisper was as quiet as he’d meant it, but being drunk he couldn’t really be sure. He didn’t really care either, he just wanted Harry to feel less alone than he had done himself when he’d collapsed. “You can tell them. I’ll be right right here the whole time.”

“You’d do that?” Harry turned to look at him, bringing them so close their foreheads were almost touching. Draco leaned in just a bit more, until his skin was pressed against Harry’s nasty, twenty-four year old scar. It felt cold against his skin, but that could also be because he felt a bit hot all of a sudden.

“Of course.” He ignored Granger, Weasley and the rest of the world, and leaned in just a little more. He was drunk, Harry was drunk, and neither one of them were in a very good mental state, so he didn’t kiss him on the lips. Instead, he kissed the light stubble on Harry’s cheek, and whispered, “that’s a promise I don’t intend to break. Ever.”

Harry relaxed a little at that, and put his own arm around Draco as he turned to his friends. “I’m-,” he started, but he didn’t seem able to voice it, as if the right words eluded him. Draco squeezed his shoulder, and Harry took a deep breath. “I’m not okay. Haven’t been for ages. And I can’t-, I can’t pretend anymore.”

“What are you saying, mate?” Weasley interrupted, and Draco could have cursed him if it hadn’t been for the deep concern edged on his face. “What do you mean you’re not okay?”

“He’s depressed, Weasley.” Pansy crossed her arms and looked at the redhead as if he was the most idiotic person she’d ever seen. “He’s a war veteran in a magical society that only added the word depression to the dictionary twenty years ago. What else could he be?”

“A member of the lizard people,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear as Weasley gave a serious answer. Harry looked at him funny, before bursting into a fit of giggles. Draco soon joined in and they were still laughing as Pansy and Weasley helped them off the Jeep. Nothing broke a serious atmosphere better than muggle conspiracy theories.

“Are you coming home, Harry?” Granger held out her hand as their laughter died away. She looked doubtful, and Draco didn’t blame her. It must be weird to find her best friend suddenly on friendly terms with a Slytherin death eater, drinking rum and confessing to mental health issues. “You can sleep at our place if you want to. Rosie sleeps through the night now.”

“Yes.” Pansy answered before Harry could. She shot the drunk man an estimating look, before turning back to Granger. “It’s important that he’s not alone now. And Draco will stop by tomorrow to find Potter a therapist.” She looked back at him and flashed him a brief smile. “He’s burned through nearly all of them now, so he knows exactly where to look.”

Draco chuckled, but stopped when Harry glanced back at him, his eyes filled with worry. “Don’t burn through all of them Draco,” Harry reached up to cup his pale cheek. “I don’t want to do this on my own.”

“You won’t have to. I promised I’d stay by your side, right?” Draco bent forward and pressed a kiss on Harry’s forehead. He felt something shift in his chest then, and thought that it might indeed be a goodbye party. A goodbye party to whatever it was that made his life feel so shit.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to my beta Drarryismymuse, who is totally amazing. [here's the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4NgsbkyeJs) and please listen to it, it's really worth it (and a youtube link, so no problem for those without spotify like me)


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